


Meanwhile, back at the Ranch...

by SwimmingTiger



Category: Star Stable, Star Stable Western au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 20:02:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13958961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwimmingTiger/pseuds/SwimmingTiger
Summary: Mrs. Holdsworth and Jasper discuss business old and new, and begin prepping for the onslaught that they know almost nothing about.Gun mention but no violence.





	Meanwhile, back at the Ranch...

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Act II: Under the Thunder](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13909176) by [Burgie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burgie/pseuds/Burgie), [ClaraDiamondsong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraDiamondsong/pseuds/ClaraDiamondsong), [clightlee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clightlee/pseuds/clightlee), [copperheadpony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperheadpony/pseuds/copperheadpony), [eyeskillercold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyeskillercold/pseuds/eyeskillercold), [NumiTuziNeru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NumiTuziNeru/pseuds/NumiTuziNeru), [Shadowlord13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowlord13/pseuds/Shadowlord13), [SwimmingTiger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwimmingTiger/pseuds/SwimmingTiger), [willownorthbook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/willownorthbook/pseuds/willownorthbook), [ZDusk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZDusk/pseuds/ZDusk), [Zebrablanket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zebrablanket/pseuds/Zebrablanket). 



> My Mrs. Holdsworth is a tougher old bird than than the one we know and love.

It was one of those cool almost-spring days that promised rain at some point, and Jasper Holdbrook was peering up at the sky as he walked home. He harrumphed, more to himself than anything. He knew they needed the rain, but he was preparing to be grumpy when he was caught in the inevitable downpour. Jasper's natural state was grumpy. As he approached the gate, a tiny redheaded child waved and ran towards him from down the road. Her hair was plaited into braids that were rapidly coming undone and her dress was dirty along the hem. She probably started the day with shoes on, and they would reappear at some point before her mother got home, but for now she ran barefoot down the path towards the curmudgeon. She had a handful of wildflowers that she offered to him with a giggle. 

"What's a man gon'ta do with flowers?" He grumped. But he accepted them with a polite little bow. The girl curtsied in response. Instead of veering right, towards his own log cabin, he headed straight on down the side road, knowing Mrs. Holdsworth was probably following after her- miles behind on her cane. The little girl put her hand in his, as they walked down a dirt path under an avenue of whispy green jacarandas and aged olive trees. As they walked, they passed his fields, usually full of squash, but currently overflowing with beans and strawberries. From the looks of her apron, Jasper suspected she'd been into the strawberries. They walked on past a tiny red cottage, where white cherry blossoms fell like snow, and the buzzing of bees could be heard. The little girl pulled him away from the house. She was afraid of the bees. 

"If ye had shoes on you wouldn't have to worry bout stepping on a bee again." He grumbled. The little girl, reminded, lifted her arms and he begrudgingly held her, giving a great theatrical gasp and feigning a knee-wobble. "Let's see about them freckles." He said, peering at her cheeks and nose when she turned her face towards him. 

"Do I have any new ones?" The little girl giggled, flashing deep dimples and turning her face to and fro. 

"Nayup. Not a one. Ain't natural, a red head with no freckles!" He set her down as they reached a stone wall, and pushed open the iron gate. Inside was a small grassy yard, where the child _should_ have been playing, and a porch holding one exasperated Mrs. Holdsworth. The child ran to the woman and wrapped her tiny arms around her waist. 

"Jasper brought you flowers!" The girl proclaimed, and before Mrs. Holdsworth could holler at the child, she ran off to Cleo, the cook. 

"She should have shoes on." Jasper muttered, dropping a burlap sack on the porch and walking over to pull a drink from the well. Mrs. Holdsworth drew a rag from her apron and tossed it to him. He dipped the rag into the bucket and wiped his face. 

"Well then _you_ can mind the hellion and _I'll_ do the shopping. And afterwards you can enlighten me as to what magic you use to make that child keep her shoes on." Mrs. Holdsworth was all of four foot nothing, and probably weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet, but when she planted her feet and put her hands on her hips Jasper knew better than to sass her. 

"hrmp. Magic." He beckoned for her to walk with him, and she grabbed her cane and followed. 

The house was in the Spanish colonial style, a U-shape around a courtyard with a fountain, trees and flowers. At one end of the U was the stables, and a high adobe wall surrounded the entire property, save for the fields and a few acres of brush that were attached to the homestead, between them and the Dew farm. The side porch had been added later, and the front entry walled off. Most of the front wall was hidden by overgrown scrub, sage, and buckthorn. And between there and the road was a haphazard orchard of orange and olive trees. From the main road, you couldn't see the structure at all. This was how the lady of the house preferred it. 

"What's going on Jas?" Mrs. Holdsworth asked, as he led her to the stable and checked to make sure they were alone. The only other people on the property were the ranch hands and their wives, but all of them were out doing some task or another. They were safe. 

"Speaking of Magic, did you bring any of that mumbo jumbo with ye from back home?" 

Mrs. Holdsworth was surprised at the question. Jasper had rarely mentioned home since they had taken residence here. He seemed content to grow his pumpkins and run into town every now and then, and to fuss over the little Miss. She knew he had followed his great love over the sea, had it in his head that they weren't getting any younger, and that he was sorely disappointed when she'd met some stuffed suit banker back East. He'd followed them West, when the Jorvik pilgrims had moved west, and then down almost to Mexico, where her new husband hired a family to handle the ranch. Jasper heard of the dangers the California territory held, and followed anyway, if only to keep an eye out for the Grand Lady, but he finally put his foot down when she decided to move north to San Francisco. She wanted to open a vineyard, and had asked him to manage the fields. She was decent enough to her workers, but he wanted to court her, not toil in the fields for her. 

The land and cattle were left to the family hired to run it, and they'd eventually purchased claims on the surrounding land, raising horses, pigs and sheep, and selling yarn, rendered lard, soap, orange preserves, cured olives and olive oil in a smaller general store in town. After some years, most of the family moved on and left the daughter behind. She'd sold off the cattle, several of the plots of land in town, and bought the house and adjacent shop that the Grand Lady had begun building but grew tired of in favor of cooler climes and high society. When it was completed, it was a large gaudy house, intended to be used as a boarding house but... well, no one at _this_ house really spoke of _that_ house. 

"I did not think you a believer in druid mumbo jumbo" She asked, eyeing the old man with curiosity. "Why bring it up now?" 

Jasper walked over to one of the horses, an elderly appaloosa, who had been waiting impatiently in his stall for a treat since the two walked in. He grabbed a peppermint from his pocket and placed his palm under the horses greedy mouth. "Well. There's something going on in town. Lots of angry meetings in the saloon. The sheriffs involved. Even the missus seemed shaken. " Jasper rubbed the horses ears and gave him a pat on the neck. 

"Well what are they saying?" 

"Don't know. I don't drink." 

"For Aideens sake Jasper, you can _listen_." Mrs. Holdsworth hissed. The man was too stubborn for his own good sometimes. She would offer herself up for the next shopping trip, she swore. Even if it took all day to walk to town and back. 

Jasper heard Rose laughing in the courtyard. She was regaling the cook with tales of her great strawberry heist while the woman set about with supper. He lowered his voice. "Sounds like trouble's coming into town. Only, we're a long way from town, so I reckon we're safe here." He shrugged. It had occurred to him that he might panic the other residents, and suddenly didn't want to make a big fuss over it. 

"Then what's the mumbo jumbo for?" 

"Oh. I thought. Just maybe something... a little something. To keep Miss Rose and everyone here safe." 

Mrs. Holdsworth peered at him. She'd known Jasper for a very long time, and knew if he wanted some sort of magic as protection, then something was a-brewing. 

"I hear tell the Natives burn sage..." She pointed to a plant growing along the side wall. "That one there. When its dried of course. Not certain what it does, and you have to thank the plant and the gods what gave it to you, I hear." 

Jasper rubbed his whiskered chin and peered at the brush. He'd cleared several of them from around his pumpkin patch. "A burning bush eh. Ok what else can we do?" 

"There's some sigils I can paint on the barn and the doors. Runes for protection." She drew a couple of characters in the dirt with her cane. "Personally, I would keep that scatter gun oiled and loaded. And trust that Miss Miranda will have a plan. She usually does. The cellar is near done being dug out, and if there isn't enough steel in these walls to build a train car, I'd eat your hat." 

At this Jasper gave a snort of laughter. It made him cough. He took a long look at the characters and after a moment, covered them with hay. He then walked over to the awning windows and pushed a couple of them open. Rose had been petting the cat by the fountain, and Jasper tapped on the window sill and gave her a look. He was trying to convey 'don't you push that poor cat into the water' but it wasn't much different from his general expression. She waved happily. He sighed. 

"Something else on your mind, Jasper?" Mrs. Holdsworth tried gently. She knew he was not as hard shelled as he appeared, and his affection for the girl made him vulnerable. If there was anything stuck in his craw, now was the time to pull at it. 

"You reckon they'll be ok?" He poked his chin in the direction past Mrs. Holdsworths' cabin. Past the fields that once held cattle, now mostly grown over with scrub, and the ravine with the tiny creek, to where the Dew farm lay. 

"Oh, they're more hidden then we are. Probably by choice. And they've been through worse. They'll be fine." The Dews were a touchy subject for Mrs. Holdsworth. On the one hand, she had been aware of their troubles since they'd left the old country. On the other- she was of the opinion that there was a certain carelessness about them. The way they struggled to maintain crops, while everyone elses in the valley flourished. They also had a hard time keeping track of their livestock. And children. She felt it bordered on neglect but kept that rather uncharitable opinion to herself. She knew Miranda had made attempts at sending over food and supplies, but it was always found unused, scattered around the property. And they'd left more than just refuse in the ravine... Mrs. Holdsworth heard rumors that they had been cursed in the old country, but as she could not get close enough to find out whom, and how she could help, she stayed away. 

She  _had_ met some of the children- and felt that maybe May Dew, the first of the Dews to be born here in New Jorvik, had the potential to pull the family out of their accursed state, but it was hard to say. She had a fondness for the Dew children she was acquainted with, and vowed to help were they ever able to escape their granny's pride and come asking for it. Until then- she'd steer clear. 

Jasper meanwhile, was making faces at the child through the window. Rose was standing on the edge of the large stone fountain, and rocking in a way that he knew meant she was going to "accidentally" fall in. He wagged his finger at her and she jumped down and ran off after the cat. He sighed again and chuckled at the girl. Even though her hair was red, and not raven colored, there were times when he saw his own little Catherine in her. 

Mrs. Holdsworth walked over to the window and stood next to her old friend. He still had a bee in his bonnet and she wanted to press to find out but knew how touchy he could be. She figured he'd let it out in his own sweet time. She studied him as he smiled at the girls antics, a genuine smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, though his brow still carried a great sadness and worry. She placed a hand on his shoulder, as it dawned on her what was bothering him. 

"They ain't coming back for her, Jasper." She started, quietly. "The other one, May, doesn't even know she was ever born. She's here to stay and you oughtn't fret over them none. And she's as much our child as she is Mirandas' now." She said this gently, but as a matter of fact. He nodded. "Just make sure you don't coddle her too much. A spoiled child with as much energy as she has would be a bad thing indeed." 

"You're the one lets her run around barefoot!" Jasper huffed, moving towards the entrance at a quicker pace than usual, trying to outrun Mrs. Holdsworth swinging cane. "Gotta get home and bring the chickens in 'afore the rain! See you at supper!" He waved without turning around. Her words had touched a sore spot, but brought some comfort. 

 

* * * 

 

Jasper didn't turn up for supper, but this was not unusual. Cleos' food was often too "piquant" for him. Gave him the wind, he had told Mrs. Holdsworth, who wished he'd keep that information to himself. Afterwards she'd given little Rose her bath, and set then set the chid down with Cleo and Serafina as they did some sewing. Rose was trying her hand at embroidery. She wanted cats on all her pillows and towels, and she would sit with her tongue out and a determined look on her round face, trying to produce a cat like shape with a needle and a piece of string. 

Mrs. Holdsworth excused herself and walked a little way up the path, following the smell of smoke from up near Jaspers cabin. A light drizzle had started, and she pulled her shawl tighter around her as she walked. She smelled the Pinon Pine smoke that was mostly used for firewood in these parts, and the familiar smell of spent squash vines being burnt. There was another, unfamiliar scent, something strong and medicinal, and she knew what Jasper was doing even before he came into view. 

Jasper was in his back field, the one that hadn't been planted this season, and he'd piled up logs and old pumpkin vines into a roaring bonfire. Mrs. Holdsworth watched from behind an olive tree, as he added the sage bushes he'd cut, one after another onto the fire. As he did this, he'd raise his hands to the sky, then lower them to the earth, and seemed to be whispering a prayer of some sort. He then picked a flattened piece of tin off the ground, and waved the smoke in the direction of Mirandas home, then towards Mrs Holdsworths cottage, and then towards his own cabin. He even waved the smoke towards the fields between their two homes - towards the Dew farm. She could see, when the fire reflected off the old tin, that he'd painted the sigils for protection on it. 

Mrs. Holdsworth shivered, though the rain hadn't really penetrated her shawl. 

She hobbled back towards her cottage, as fast as she could in the dying evening light. She had some pigments in her hope chest that she would grind into paint tonight. She tried to remember the other runes, and pictographs, that were used for protection. And she would let the other ranch ladies know, to pray to their god on his cross for the sake of all living in the house, and the town. They were already a religious bunch, and though Miranda had differing thoughts on it, her ranch hands followed the church the Spaniards brought. Mrs. Holdsworth could respect that. 

But _Jasper_...? She thought.

 _If Jaspers found religion_...

She looked to the West, where the clouds were darker and more ominous than they should've been at sunset. A bolt of lighting struck the highest peak. 

If old Jasper was praying to the gods- old and new- then there has to be a great deal more trouble coming than he let on. 

" _Aideen help us_." She whispered as she fled onto the porch from the now pouring rain. 

" _Someone help us_." Jasper was whispering, as he stood in the downpour, watching as his sacred fire sizzled and sputtered and died out. 

 


End file.
